Psychic Shell
By: Michael Graham
Chapter One:
The Silence After the Storm
"There's a theory that states that everyone's minds are all connected by a psychic web. What if this web is the source of all creativity? What if our ideas are really products of a psychic link that binds the 'creator' to the 'created'? It would mean that we didn't create anything, but rather we glimpsed into the lives of the people we thought were pure fiction." –(me)
Explosions bombard the ruined city as a small group of survivors run towards the last three transport ships. As they near the ships, a man in his early twenties looks back to see if anyone was lagging behind, only to witness tall buildings collapsing into the abysmal depths of earth.
"Come on! You're almost there!" yelled a cybernetic man from the back of one of the transport ships.
The ground quakes under their feet as they desperately dash for their only hope of survival. A dust cloud washes over them, obscuring their view to a twenty foot radius. Guided by the loud sounds coming from the transport ships engines, the group makes it in time and splits up into different transport ships. As the man boards the ship, he hears the cyborg yelling over the ongoing explosions.
"I'm sorry, mam, we're out of room! You've got to get to one of the other transport ships before they take off!"
The man looks back to see a woman in her early forties and his expression turns to panic. "No, wait, she's with me!"
"It's ok; I'll get on another ship!" The woman runs off.
"No, wait!" he tries to get back off, but the cyborg stops him with an arm.
"We can't wait any longer, we have to take off!" He presses two fingers against his temple, "Robin, get us out of here!"
The transport door slowly closes as the ship rises from the ground and prepares to leave. The man cries out in panic as the ship takes off. "Please, you don't understand! She's my –" an explosion erupts from below, violently shaking the ship. The man flies up and bangs his head against the ceiling.
The man springs from his bed into a sitting position, breathing faster than normal. He attempts to calm himself before shifting his position to the side of the bed, rubbing his eyes and face from grogginess. He looks at the digital alarm clock perched on the bedside table, which read "7:48 am". The man takes a deep breath and lets out a sigh before getting up.
The sun baths the city with warm light while a few clouds float freely in the sky. The man blocks the city noise with his headphones while he walks the streets of downtown Jump City, his expression lost in thought. He passes by a television shop, their TVs broadcasting news coverage of angry protestors protesting just outside of a large "T" shaped building. They held signs that read things like "YOU'RE NOT WELCOME HERE!", "STOP TAKING OUR JOBS!", and "YOU DON'T BELONG HERE!"
"In other news, angry protestors have flocked to Titans Tower, where the remaining survivors, of the 2012 incident, have been relocated to, after they were threatened by the terrorist cell known as, 'Vaccine.' It all began just a week ago, when Vaccine first demonstrated their beliefs by burning down four of the hotels that were home to forty-three refugees, killing thirty-five."
"Yes," the male anchor begins, "but before that, their numbers were already plummeting as twenty-four refugees had committed suicide, over the last four months. We started with sixty-seven survivors, but after the suicides and the terrorist attack, the total of refugees has dramatically dropped to eight."
The man lies silently on a psychiatric couch as an older man sits in a chair behind him, out of view from the man.
"How are you feeling today, Michael?" the man in the chair asks. Michael continues to lie in silence, staring at the ceiling. The man shifts, "The Titans tell me you haven't spoken a word ever since your arrival. Would you like to share with me how you are doing?" The man waits patiently before chuckling, "Don't worry, I'm not like the rest of them: I'm not here to hurt you, I'm here to help you." The room goes silent. Only the ticking of a grandfather clock and sounds from the buzzing street, could be heard.
A few minutes go by before Michael finally begins to speak, "I can't find my mom."
"Oh? Who is your mom? What does she look like?"
"H-her name is Wendi… she's in her forties, now… short black hair… tattoo on her shoulder… she said she'd be on the other transport... but, when we landed, I couldn't find any other transport… she's gone… in a different world… along with the rest of my family and friends."
"Could you tell me of your world? What exactly happened?"
Michael stays silent.
"Er, my apologies, I shouldn't have asked such a difficult question on our first session. Why don't we end it here and continue tomorrow?"
The living room of Titans Tower is alive with voices of relaxing Titans plus a couple refugees who are showing signs of mental improvement. Starfire, Robin, and the refugees are watching Beast Boy and Cyborg play video games on the big screen while Raven makes tea.
"BOOYAH!" Cyborg yells.
"AAAGGH!" exclaims Beast Boy as he loses to Cyborg.
"Who's next for a butt woopin?"
Suddenly, Michael enters the room. He raises his hand and says, "H..h-hi." Everyone turns around, surprised. The room goes silent, except for the sounds coming from the video game, as everyone stares at him. "U-um…" he says, holding the back of his neck. He then mumbles something inaudible and turns around to leave.
"Hey, wait!" Beast Boy says, "Do you wanna join us?"
Michael turns around to see a grinning Beast Boy staring back at him. "U-um… sure," he cracks a small smile.
"As we near 2012, our solar system moves ever closer to the equator of the Milky Way, where the highest energy gama rays ever detected, are emitting."